


Another day, another lonely night

by zation



Series: Holy Diver [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Background Case, Background Relationships, Cas needs a hug, Cheating Castiel, Church Sex, Coming In Pants, Devoted Man!Castiel, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Fake Priest!Dean, First Time, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Hurting!Castiel, Inappropriate use of the confessional, Infidelity, Light Pining, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Praise, Priest Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Sexuality Crisis, Very Naughty Dean, Wet Dream, hunter!dean, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zation/pseuds/zation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a case in Pontiac, Illinois, Dean gets stuck working the role of a minister while Sam lands the cozy janitor job and it’s <em>really</em> fucking boring for Dean. Until it’s not.</p><p>Or,</p><p>The one where Dean finds Cas’ innocence hilariously delicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another day, another lonely night

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know what you’re all thinking: here goes Zation again, writing something religious even though the idiot clearly knows nothing about it. But you know what? Cas and Dean just kind of _fits_ into scenarios like these so yeah, go ahead and mock.  
>  Or, you know, enjoy the porn this is obviously gonna lead to. 
> 
> Plus, make sure to read _all_ the tags. I will not have someone reading this and complaining about something that is clearly tagged. Please folks, this (like everything I write) is a work of _fiction_ and is purely meant for entertainment. Please take it lightly. 
> 
> Also, shout-out to my good friend BeeCas who made sure this became my first fic not to have the "Not Beta Read" tag. Thank you for beta-reading, love! (I still take full responsibility, of course. If there’s anything off, you blame me)

  
  


Fuck, Dean hated working the confessionals. And to be perfectly honest he was rather certain the other priests were just pawning it off on him because they hated it too. Because seriously, who stuck the newbie in here?

So Dean and Sam were working a case in Pontiac, Illinois and it had led them to this little Catholic church because the people of its small parish were dropping in a decidedly suicide-y manner that was just a little _too_ clean. Sam thought witches but since Dean hated witches he was routing for ghost. By now there was fifty bucks and a pie in the bet and this was getting serious.

Problem was, they were having a difficult time finding evidence or anything that connected anyone to anything and fuck it all, Dean had been ready to just chuck it up to the weather making people feel shitty or something. Maybe it was regular suicides, huh?

But what little they had it had pointed them to this church so Sam had wanted to investigate it more. More than just regular mass-attending, god-fearing folk could do. And they were in luck too because the church had advertised for a new janitor/gardener/handyman. Dean had been smug about that because fuck yeah, he was handy with his hands alright.

Only, the church was looking for _one_ janitor and fuck you, rock-paper-scissor, Dean had ended up with pretending to be a newly transferred reverend instead. Novice, really. Acolyte, more accurately. 

So while Sam was out there, prancing around feeling like a king or whatever in his jump suit, Dean was stuck inside the church, sleeping in a room so bare that cells on death row had more sparkle and walking about in tight, black priestly robes that didn’t chafe at all because no. Fuck you, Sammy.

But it had been fine, until Father Rogers had thought it would be a splendid idea to pass the duties of the confessionals onto Dean. And the rest of the priests couldn’t have agreed faster, self-righteous bastards, the lot of them.

So Sam and Dean had to do their best during the days, when they now had actual freaking, _honest_ work to do to keep up appearances. And because Sam was not allowed on the premise after his shift was over, he went back to the motel to do research (Dean hoped) and Dean was stuck in the confessional booth until eleven every goddamn night except Tuesdays. And thank God for that small mercy at least. Tuesdays were quickly becoming Dean’s favorite day of the week and he had only been doing this for a week and a half.

It wasn’t like it was all bad, though. Some of the confessions were hilarious to hear and a few of the younger daughters had quickly figured out that the new smoking hot (if Dean would say so himself, shut up Sammy) priest was the one attending the confessionals. Listening to them flirting with the "innocent" priest was Dean’s new favorite thing.

Still, he wouldn’t do anything about that, with them being underage and all. But boy did he wish at least one of them was old enough to fuck because they were getting raunchier and braver every time almost as if they were daring each other to push it further. And while Dean thought that was the best thing ever he was having a hard time, literally, because while he had his own room and all he still felt skeevy as hell jerking off in a church. So he had been lying there every night in the uncomfortable little cot in his starched white underwear that totally should have little crosses on them but thankfully didn’t, trying to will away his stubborn erection.

It was seriously getting to a ridiculous point and the fact that Sam had only scowled at him while trying not to laugh made it all worse. If they at least could have a lead on the ghost/witch/whatever Dean maybe would have felt better but no dice.

It was now Thursday on his second week of sweating his ass off in the warm robes and confining booth and he was seriously considering calling it quits. It was already eight o’ clock and even though the confessionals were supposed to be open until eleven barely anyone came in after eight on weekdays.

He checked his watch again and sighed. Two minutes past eight. He was just about ready to try forcing himself to need to pee to have an excuse to leave the booth for at least a minute when the door on the other side opened and someone slid inside.

Dean leaned back in his seat and tried to school his features even thought they could barely see each other through the netted window. Really, Sam should be the one in here what with his soothing voice and knack for getting people to tell him their secrets. Oh, Sam had thought Dean’s new position was a golden opportunity to get some info but you know what? If Sam thought it was such a great idea he could just sit here himself.

Dean gritted his teeth. "Good evening." He said as calmly as he could because the person on the other side seemed nervous.

"Good evening, Father." A deep, rumbling voice answered and Dean smirked to himself. He was no stranger to the pleasures of men and especially not to gravelly voices.

Just because he was feeling masochistic he put a hand on his inner thigh, just shy of his crotch, and tried to remember which churchgoer this voice belonged to.

The man was quiet for a long time and the only reason Dean didn’t realize just how long was because he was busy trying to decide between four men and trying to fight the urge to rub his thumb against his leg.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." The man eventually whispered and Dean forced himself to not be a creep for a moment.

"Tell me the nature of your sin, child, so that the Lord may judge you fairly." He intoned in his most monotone voice because for some reason most of the people whose confessions he’d taken liked that he sounded distant and emotionless. He supposed it was because he truly didn’t sound as if he was judging them but at the same time he wondered why they didn’t just go confess to a goddamn robot or something.

"I have…" the man stopped and Dean peeked through the net to try and see him. It was dark but he thought he could make out the contours of a sharp jaw and straight nose. Fine features, those. "I have had impure thoughts." Yeah, that whisper was even lower than the first and Dean scooted closer to the window.

"Do you wish to confess the nature of those thoughts as well?" Dean asked and hoped to high heavens it wouldn’t be a goddamn pedophile sitting on the other side because he wasn’t so sure he would be able to keep his appearances up if it was.

"It was… I have…" the man swallowed so loudly it was a gulp and Dean was pretty sure the whole church would have heard it if they hadn’t been alone. "I viewed a man in a sexual way." He pushed out so fast it was basically one long word.

Dean was rendered silent for a moment, trying to control his breathing so he wouldn’t laugh out loud because this man obviously took this _very_ seriously and it was adorably hilarious to Dean and his debauched lifestyle. Man, this was much funnier than listening to old man Hubble snuffling about that squirrel he accidentally killed forty years ago, that was for sure.

"I see." He eventually managed and really hoped the man hadn’t taken his long silence as judgement. "And would this be a onetime thing?"

The man was quiet for another stretch of time and Dean even had time to begin questioning his question. Had it been too forward, perhaps?

But the man answered him before he could change his mind. "No. It was… It has happened before." The man’s voice trembled to such a degree that Dean clearly understood that this was something that upset the man. Still, hearing that slight tremble in that whisky-and-smoke voice was rapidly making Dean hotter under his robes.

"I understand." He said calmly and squeezed his thigh once, for the distraction if nothing else. "Listen, Mister…"

"Novak." The man supplied in small voice. Still deliciously rumbly, though, and Dean’s dick was being a jerk about this whole conversation, for the record.

Oh boy, Novak meant it was one of the Novak-twins sitting here confessing his darkest sin. Both those men were gorgeous with their thick hair, angled faces, and strikingly blue eyes. They were so alike and yet so different that Dean couldn’t decide who it was on the other side but he sure as fuck could hope.

"Of course, Mr. Novak." Dean answered politely. "We have met, haven’t we? And I have met your wife too, yes?"

He could see Mr. Novak nodding. "Daphne." He mumbled as if he was embarrassed and maybe he was, bringing her into this conversation.

Dean didn’t think about that however, too occupied with not fist-pumping like an idiot because _yes_. If the wife was Daphne then the man on the other side was Castiel, the quieter twin. Quiet and timid and utterly delicious in his innocence.

"Have you talked to Daphne about your thoughts, Castiel?" Dean asked and tried to remain stoic even when he realized he had used the man’s first name.

Castiel sucked in a breath quickly enough to be considered a gasp and Dean liked it, alright? Castiel sounded good all breathless. Should sound like that more often, to be honest.

"Of course not." He stated hurriedly, as if he thought Dean was about two seconds away from flipping open his cell phone and dial Daphne’s number.

"Maybe you should." Dean suggested gently but could see the man shaking his head.

"I will not." He argued heatedly, leaning closer to the net and Dean liked this too. Castiel was a handsome man but Dean would never have thought he could be inclined to stray from his straight as a flagpole life so that had been the end of that. Now, however…

Dean blamed his dick chubbin’ up on the fact that he hadn’t managed to rub one off in a while.

"Castiel." Dean said soothingly and the man sat back a little. "I understand that you are afraid but the fact is that you have been married for a while, have you not? You shouldn’t have to fear that your wife will condemn you, maybe you could both make something out of it?"

Yeah, great way to blow your cover Dean. No fucking priest suggested a threesome. Dean wanted to smack his forehead because what the hell, Winchester? What had he thought? That Castiel would invite Father Dean over for a little romp in the sack? Fat chance.

But Castiel didn’t yell bloody murder, he just seemed confused. "But… It’s a sin?"

And the way he said it, with that little flip at the end to so clearly indicate a question really invigorated Dean’s dick. Fuck yeah, it’s a sin. A delicious, wonderful sin.

"Castiel, the Lord loves all his children." He said carefully because he had to remember that this was a man that had come to him with his fears. And Dean was no stranger to fearing his own feelings. Yeah, it had taken him the better part of his adolescence to figure out that it was okay for him to like sucking dick as much as he liked eating pussy and fucking hell, Castiel Novak had to be in his late thirties. Dean couldn’t imagine having to go his whole adult life denying himself. "You did right in confiding in me but you should know that God is just in his judgement."

"Y-yes?" Castiel answered but Dean could still hear how uncertain he was about this. Fuck, he felt for the man, even beyond his dick trying to poke a hole in his dress slacks.

It was awful of him to sport an erection because of this man when the man was clearly suffering but there you had it. Just thoughts of Castiel Novak’s pink lips stretched around Dean’s dick, his eyes all wet from newly shed tears, made Dean want to beat one off right the fuck now, no matter where he was. If God was condemning one man to Hell tonight it sure as fuck would be Dean and not innocent little Castiel, that was for sure.

"Right." Dean answered firmly and turned to look at the other man, finding him facing the window but with his head bowed. "Now you go home and recite the Act of Contrition for yourself but nothing else, give yourself a respite from your ill thoughts tonight, Mr. Novak."

And fuck it all to Hell if that wasn’t a shudder going through Castiel’s body. But why? Was he disappointed in Dean’s judgement? Was he relieved at the same? Or did he like Dean telling him what to do?

Dean fucking hoped it was the last one.

"Yes, Father." He said in a hushed tone and Dean nodded even though the man couldn’t see.

"And you will think about telling your wife, please do not suffer in silence if you don’t have to."

"I will, Father. Amen."

"Amen." Dean answered and just for show he did the cross-sign.

As soon as Castiel had left the confessional Dean exited as well, too excited to sit in there right now. He hung the _Be right back_ sign on the door and nearly ran to the private bathroom in the priests’ quarters. His dick was driving him insane and as he came down the toilet with a strangled moan he blamed it all on the semi-forced chastity. Had to blame it on something easy because he needed to be able to meet Castiel’s (and his brother’s) eyes the next time they met without revealing how his mind had been filled with images of the brothers as his hand flew over his hard flesh.

  
  


*****

  
  


"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

Fucking yes, Dean barely resisted laughing out loud in pure relief. This day had been long and since it was Saturday the confessional was full of sinners wishing to repent (and Dean suspected more would come the next day). Sam had gotten nowhere with their case except finally admitting that maybe Dean was right about it not being witches. And since Dean was stuck at church where the Wi-Fi seriously sucked so bad he got more frustration than help from the web, he could do nothing but steal a word with Sam and try his best to interrogate the other priests. Working the confessionals hadn’t yielded as much as Sam had hoped either, since most parishioners seemed extremely well-behaved.

All but one, and fucking finally was he back in the booth beside Dean. All but 49 hours later (49 hours, 12 minutes) he once again had the man with a voice for sin confessing his actual sins. And you shut your face because Dean _hadn’t_ been counting (49 hours, 13 minutes).

"Tell me, child." Dean said solemnly and had already come to terms with the reaction his body had to this one man and his worries. Had jerked off enough in the short time to kind of have to accept it.

"I did it again."

Oh boy, Castiel sounded _wrecked_. Awesomely, tantalizingly wrecked.

"You imagined another man?" Dean pressed because he wanted to hear it. Castiel drew a shuddering breath as if preparing himself and Dean wasn’t gonna lie, he already had a hand on his crotch. Wasn’t like someone was going to see anyway; this was just for him.

"I… Worse."

Fuck, Castiel’s voice was small as he pressed out that one word.

"Did you—" Dean had to cut himself off with a fake cough because he accidentally gripped his perky dick too hard and it felt so fucking good. Was close to a moan there, to be honest, and wouldn’t that just be the goddamn tip of the iceberg? "Have you spoken to your wife about this?"

"I couldn’t. I tried. I-I—"

"It’s okay, Cas." Dean said calmly and didn’t even notice how he used the nickname he had given the man in his head when he totally hadn’t (had!) beaten off to the memory of the man’s voice. "It was just a suggestion but if you’re uncomfortable then you are more than welcome to seek me out instead." _Any fucking time._

Dean squeezed his dick as he listened to Castiel’s breathing evening out. "Thank you, Father."

"Of course, my son." Dean murmured in a voice a little too low but fuck, he could already feel his dick straining against his hand and it felt so good to press down on it. "Tell how this time was worse than the other times."

Castiel gulped and Dean leaned his head back against the wall when he felt a small drop of precome bubble up. Fuck, he was reacting fast and he wasn’t even gonna pretend that wasn’t true. But the thought of sitting in here and listening to this man confess his sins had been on the forefront of Dean’s spank bank ever since Thursday. So yeah, Dean was ready to admit that he was completely voluntarily, unashamedly using this man, and doing so consciously. Kind of felt better to phrase it like that. _Using_ the man. Delicious. 

"Yesterday my niece had a PTA-meeting at her school." Castiel begun in a low voice that Dean wanted whispering filthy nothings against his ear as the man fucked him. Or maybe the other way around? Dean wasn’t choosey and his dick sure as fuck wasn’t either.

"Go on." Shit, Dean was basically begging but Castiel didn’t seem to notice and Dean wondered wildly how much he could get away with.

"Amelia and Jimmy were both busy so I took Claire, it’s… We’ve done that before. Her teachers can’t tell me and Jim apart." He sounded as if this was another sin he wished to confess another time and Dean was torn between wanting to rip out his dick and beat off and just fucking hug the man. His innocence was a huge turn on for Dean, but also adorable.

"That’s efficient." Dean mumbled and knew his character was slipping but shit, he was too hard now to keep his concentration. He unbuttoned his robes as quietly as he could, needing to touch his dick _now_. "But something happened?"

"I met Claire’s new P.E. teacher." Castiel drew that shuddering breath that shot directly to Dean’s dick. "He… He was very visually stunning."

 _I bet he was_ , Dean thought as he massaged his dick through his pants, biting his lip to keep from groaning.

"Did you speak with him?" he prompted as he traced the outline of his hard dick where it tented his slacks. Fuck. He quietly adjusted it up against his hip but it did nothing to ease the ache.

"I did…" Castiel answered slowly, as if unwilling to admit it. "But only briefly. He was praising Claire and I… We shook hands."

Fucking hell, Dean wished Castiel had used that hand to jerk off when he got home that night. Probably hadn’t, though, but that didn’t stop Dean’s fantasy of a red-faced Castiel wanking off frantically in the shower. Quietly, quickly, all so his pretty little wife wouldn’t know.

"This all seems completely normal to me." Dean struggled to keep his voice level as he slowly stroked his dick through the fabric of his pants. It jumped against his touch and he could feel more precome leaking out.

"I suppose." Castiel admitted in a whisper. "But for the rest of the meeting I couldn’t look away. He was standing beside the principal and he… He had his gym shorts on and I—" Castiel coughed just as Dean had and for some reason Dean imagined it was because Castiel, too, had to cover a moan. Dean was stroking faster, firmer, more determinedly. Little flicks of his wrist that wouldn’t make much sound and wouldn’t jostle his whole arm. "I couldn’t stop looking. His legs… They were so…"

"Well-shaped?" Dean suggested in a breathy voice when Castiel trailed off.

" _Manly._ " Castiel admitted and sounded just as breathless. Fuck, Dean was going to come. In his pants, in the confessional booth, _while taking a confession_. Dean was going to Hell and he wasn’t even sorry. "He had such defined muscles and slight bowlegs and I-I just couldn’t—" Castiel abruptly turned to the netted window and Dean pressed back against the wall even though he was pretty sure the man could only see the shadowed profile of Dean’s face just as Dean saw him. "What do I do, Father?" he asked desperately and _shitshitshit_ , Dean was so _there_. "I kept imagining his legs all night. I couldn’t even concentrate on Daphne when she spoke to me. I have neglected her."

_Oh, God._

"You listen to me, Cas." Dean gritted out even as he pressed the heel of his hand against his weeping dick. "I understand that you feel wrong for neglecting your wife but I will _not_ have you feel bad for thinking about another man, just because it’s a man. There’s nothing wrong with that."

"Father?" Castiel asked uncertainly and fuck, Dean was gonna blow it. Both his cover and his load.

"You go home now and recite ten Hail Mary’s and the Act of Contrition, I want you to repent putting yourself down over this."

Please, please just go. Dean was lifting his hips up now, grinding up in minute circles and he couldn’t keep it in anymore. He needed the man out of here _now_ or Dean would expose himself by fucking moaning as he came.

"Hail Mary, Father?" Castiel asked. "Is that appropriate?"

"Are you questioning me?"

Fuck, that had come out much more growly and demanding than Dean had intended and to his lust-filled mind’s delight it made Castiel jump slightly.

"Of course not." Castiel hastened to say. "Thank you, Father. Amen."

"Amen." Dean pressed out and wasn’t even sure if he had said it or groaned it.

Castiel left all the same and Dean massaged down more forcefully the moment he heard the door to the other booth snick shut. Fuck, he was coming right now. Legs spread, neck and back sweaty under his robes, he grinded his hand down and bit his lower lip as he shot all over his boxers.

The pleasure shot through his whole body like arrows, sharp and intense and wonderfully lewd. He managed to keep quiet expect for a small gasp at the end there when his dick pushed out the last pump, surprising him. But fuck, the image of Castiel on his knees between Dean’s spread legs had just popped into mind and he hadn’t been able to help it. The man would look beautiful there, Dean just knew.

He slumped back against the wall and probably grinned like a dork as he rode the endorphins. The high didn’t last long, however, as the feeling of his cold come slipped around his balls. Fuck, that would stick and he still had more than an hour left of sitting in here. And unlike last time he could hear people outside the booths. Fuck.

He shouldn’t have done this, he thought sourly as he buttoned his robe again. And not only because it made him uncomfortable in his clothes but because he was seriously breaking Castiel’s vulnerable trust. The man was really upset about this and Dean shouldn’t take advantage of that to fuel his masturbation fantasies.

But he had and it had felt awesome. Dean sighed, he was probably the worst priest in history and he wasn’t even sure he was sorry about it.

  
  


*****

  
  


Dean was picking at an invisible thread on his priest robes, bored out of his mind. It was Monday evening and no one fucking wanted to confess their sins on a bloody Monday, that was for sure. Dean already longed for the next day when he would be free.

So Sam had finally made some head-way on their case and that was good, at least. Kept Dean distracted from thoughts about Castiel, if nothing else. Seriously, seeing the man yesterday during Father Rogers’ boring-as-hangover mass had been both wonderful and torture.

Castiel had given Dean this small little nod in greeting when their eyes met over the pews and Dean hadn’t been able to help himself; had had to smile brightly back. Castiel’s cheeks had tinged an adorable pink and Dean had had to turn away to keep from walking over and kissing the man right then and there.

Because seriously, what the fuck was wrong with him? Had to get a grip there, Winchester.

So Dean had collected himself but it hadn’t stopped him from squeezing Castiel’s hand a little extra hard as the parishioners were making their way out of the church after mass. Their eyes had met for a moment too long and Dean had only very barely resisted licking his lips suggestively. Castiel’s wife had been right there, for fuck’s sake.

But he had managed to keep a cool face until about ten seconds later when he was once again face to face with Castiel. Except no, that time it had been Jimmy and the man had smiled much wider than Castiel while he shook Dean’s hand enthusiastically. Both men were simply gorgeous to Dean but he had found himself wondering if Castiel’s eyes would sparkle just as much or more if he smiled as wide as his brother. Fuck, that was dangerous.

Because at first it had been sexy fantasies about fucking twins that had made Dean’s jerk-offs better and now suddenly there was only one man. Getting down with a couple of men was fine but pining after only one was bad, Dean knew. Couldn’t (wouldn’t) get hung up.

So it was very good that Sam finally had a small break-through last night. Dean had gotten a couple of texts late at night and they had managed to exchange a few hurried words during the day so Dean was mostly up to speed now, too.

Apparently this church had been built on the ground of an old church, like pre-American Revolution old, and some of the original groundwork was still down there in the basement. When Dean told Sam he remembered some of the other priests mentioning stumbling across an old sealed room a couple of weeks back, Sam had gotten on the ghost-bandwagon rather quickly and they had decided that Sam would do some scooping today, Dean would talk to the priests and they would check it out together tomorrow when Dean was free.

And that was great and all but Dean was still stuck in confessionals tonight. He sighed as he poked at a seam on his robe and listened to the complete silence outside the booth. He just knew he could do so much better putting this time to use down in the basement instead of in here.

In fact, he was just about to say fuck it and leave when he heard the sound of rapidly approaching steps. He sighed again, deeper, and leaned back against the wall as the door to the other booth was all but ripped open.

"Father Dean?"

Castiel sounded breathless and yes, Dean was one hundred percent certain that this was Castiel and not his brother even though they had similar voices because Castiel’s was much gravellier. Plus, when Jimmy talked Dean’s dick didn’t act up. Seriously, even now when Castiel sounded distressed Dean’s dick was being, well, a complete _dick_.

"Yes, child?" Dean answered calmly and took perverse satisfaction in getting to call the man that when Castiel was older than Dean.

"It’s getting worse."

Dean frowned. "Worse how?"

Didn’t have to ask what was worse, though, oh no. Dean was very clear on that and so was his treacherous body, but he still remembered the uncomfortable feeling of sitting in here with his cold spunk covering his most beloved body part and he didn’t fancy a repeat if he could help it. Plus, Castiel didn’t sound helpless and vulnerable; he sounded distraught and that was pushing it, even for Dean.

"Do you remember Claire’s P.E. teacher? I told you about him this Saturday."

As if Dean could ever forget. "I remember, Castiel. The man with the bowlegs." He stated simply and stretched his own legs out before him as far as the little booth allowed.

"I had…" Castiel huffed a breath of nervousness and pressed close to the little window. Dean imagined he could smell the man’s sweat through it. "I had a _dream_." Castiel whispered fervently and Dean couldn’t stop that smirk not matter how much he tried.

"What kind of dream?" he asked and prided himself in keeping his voice sincerely questioning. Castiel gulped in that goddamn sexy way of his and yeah, Dean was fattening up in his pants already. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to let himself go there but what the fuck was he supposed to do when Castiel was so close, fucking _panting_?

"It was one of _those_ dreams." Castiel pressed out, clearly humiliated but somehow Dean thought he was more humiliated by the fact that he had had the dream rather than having to talk about it. "I was lying on my back and that man with his bowlegs he was… He was standing above me and _touching_ himself."

Fuck yeah, Dean could practically see it. Preciously innocent Castiel trapped under a man (like Dean, perhaps) while said man jerked off, his thick come staining Castiel’s pristine skin. Great way not to get hard, thinking about such lewd things right now. Dean unbuttoned his robe and put one hand on his crotch with a resigned shrug. He never had been great at self-control when it came to sex.

"Was the touching of a sexual nature?" he asked even though he already knew. He saw Castiel nodding and pressed the heel of his hand once against his dick.

"I woke before he… before he _finished_ and my flesh was hot and-and… I was _erect_."

The pleasurable wave that shot down Dean’s spine was fucking painful, to be honest. He had to really concentrate not to make a sound and he massaged his dick slowly to take some of the ache away. It wasn’t working very well.

"Did you take care of yourself?" Shit, shouldn’t have asked that. Castiel clearly reacted to his tone and question as well.

"Father? I shouldn’t, should I? Masturbation is…"

"It’s physically dangerous to let it be at some point, Castiel." Dean chastised gently, completely aware that he was pulling shit out his ass right now but he had to fucking salvage this conversation. Couldn’t have Castiel run away from him now. He wasn’t even sure he would let the man run without chasing after him.

"I took a cold shower and went for a run." Castiel admitted as if that was a great source of shame for him, and maybe it was in the face of Dean’s scolding. Dean wanted to feel bad for making the pious man feel down by his pure decision but his body was on fire with thoughts of how Castiel had woken up this morning all hard and sweating and _hadn’t taken care of it_.

"You could have indulged your wife." Dean suggested kindly but saw to his perverse pleasure how Castiel shook his head.

"I couldn’t… She was asleep and I didn’t want to wake her. Besides, ever since we found out that she’s barren we haven’t really… She hasn’t wanted to and…"

 _She doesn’t do it for you_ , Dean wanted to scream. Fuck, this man was so ripe for the taking. So within reach and yet so far away.

"You know," Dean started slowly, his hand still massaging his dick languidly. "I think you’re only focusing on that man because you found him visually pleasing and because you know that he is attainable, being within such easy access and all." Dean made a humming sound when he saw Castiel nodding slowly, as if agreeing. "I think you should try to focus your mind on something else, someone unattainable so that the fantasy wouldn’t feel so tangible. Do you know who is pretty unattainable and also has bowlegs?"

"You." Castiel pressed out in a hushed voice, full of such genuine emotions that Dean’s heart felt too big for his chest.

"Oh." He said and wasn’t entirely certain it didn’t come out all strangled and shit. Fuck, just thinking about Castiel thinking about him was making him so aroused his head was spinning. "I was thinking about Jesse Williams. You know, the actor."

"Oh." Castiel mimicked but sounded so small in the face of Dean’s inadvertent rejection that Dean wanted to hug him again. Fuck, this was developing into something Dean didn’t think he should want and he felt powerless to stop it.

"But I suppose you’re right." He said and looked down at his legs, well-aware how to describe them. "My legs are certainly bowed and as a man of the cloth I may seem unattainable, wouldn’t I?"

"M-may seem, Father?" Castiel asked lowly and leaned closer from where he had shrunk back.

Dean smirked to himself. Yes, this was much better. "Do you enjoy watching my legs, Cas?" he asked in a low voice, much too close to a purr to be appropriate. "Do you steal glances at me in church, imagining me putting those legs to good use?"

Yeah, clearly out of bounds here but fuck if Dean cared when Castiel drew a sharp breath.

"F-father?"

Dean wasn’t even pretending anymore (couldn’t pretend), he was blatantly rubbing his dick, hips jerking in aborted little thrusts. "Don’t think I haven’t noticed it, Cas." He pressed out, struggling to remain in control of his voice at least, even as the situation spun out of hand. Fuck, he needed Castiel to not notice how much his innocence was affecting Dean. "I can feel your hungry eyes roaming my body as we pass each other in the pews. Such pretty blue eyes, watching me." He knew he was pressing his luck with such a lie because Castiel could easily call him on it but the man seemed to soak up every word like a parched man.

"I-I don’t understand, Father." Castiel all but fucking moaned and he had his forehead pressed against the windows edge. "Why is this happening?"

"It’s a natural reaction, Cas." Dean murmured in what was clearly a bedroom voice. Castiel sure as fuck reacted to it, arching his back deliciously for Dean too see even in the dim light. "You shouldn’t fight it. You hard now?"

Castiel let out an honest to fucking God whimper at that and Dean could feel his own balls drawing tight at the submissive sound coming from such a rumbling voice. Fuck yeah, Dean wanted to _own_ this man and all his sounds.

"This is _wrong_ , Father." Castiel pressed out in a rasp that made Dean’s whole body jerk as his dick wept precome.

"Sure is, Cas." Dean all but groaned as he watched Castiel’s whole body squirm. "But it also feels so good, doesn’t it?"

Castiel squirmed even more and Dean could see that the man had one hand on the wall and the other somewhere in the vicinity of his crotch. Fuck, the man must be hard now, having gone all day without taking care of himself after such a lewd dream. Dean was basically humping his own hand now, seeking the pleasure it brought but somehow it wasn’t really enough. Fuck he wanted Castiel in here with him. Or tied to a bed, perhaps. All exposed for Dean to mark and steal. Shit.

"Father, I c-can’t…"

"Can’t what, Cas?" Dean gasped out as he felt his own orgasm rushing towards the point where he would care about nothing but the forceful eruption, the feel of it as it finally pushed out. God, he wanted to do it in Castiel’s willing body. "Can’t do this? Can’t hold it? Are you watching me?"

And he knew the exact moment Castiel lifted his gaze and actually really took in how Dean was fucking his own hand. The man made a pained sound somewhere between a whine and a sob and it pushed Dean over the edge like nothing else.

With a deep, guttural moan he spilled all over himself, once again trapped in his pants as his dick jumped and spit spurt after spurt of thick whiteness. His whole body jerked as the pleasure ripped through him and all he could see before him was a pair of ocean blue eyes watching him intently.

He cursed gently as he came down, finding little black spots dancing before his eyes and fucking shit, that had probably been one of the most intense orgasms he’d had in a long while. He had come so hard it had even pressed its way through both his boxers and pants.

With a lazy smirk he brought his fingers to his lips and licked once.

There was a sharp gasp from the other side and Dean’s smirk grew. "You still watching, Cas?" he purred and turned his head in time to catch Castiel’s arm’s jerky motions. "Yeah, you are."

"Father." Castiel moaned, actually freaking _moaned_ , and Dean pressed closer to the netted window as well, inhaling the man’s desperate scent.

"Do it, Cas." He rasped and watched how Castiel’s whole body strained against the wall. "Just let go, you deserve it. Such a pretty man."

Castiel gasped again, even sharper, and thumped his forehead hard against the wall even as all his other motions stopped. And hell, that was it, Dean knew from experience. Castiel was fucking coming in his pants right the fuck now, at Dean’s words.

"Pretty, pretty man." Dean all but cooed because Dean Winchester didn’t coo (yeah, right) as he watched Castiel shake against the wall. "No shame, no judging. So beautiful, Cas."

But something, and Dean would never know what, made Castiel withdraw as if burned. His eyes looked wild in the poor light and Dean wanted to reach out for him.

Castiel stared around himself before his gaze landed on his own no doubt wet crotch. "Oh no." He hushed out in a strangled voice.

"Cas—" Dean started comfortingly but was cut off when Castiel let out an honest to God sob.

"No, no." He was panicking and Dean was already on his way to exit the booth and to hold the man.

"Castiel, you listen to me." He started as he unhatched the latch on his door but the other man was faster in his franticness.

"I’m sorry, oh Lord forgive me." Castiel babbled and was out of the booth and well down the line of pews before Dean had a chance to catch him.

Dean sighed deeply and carded a hand through his sweaty hair as he watched the church doors slam shut behind Castiel. Maybe he should chase after him. Maybe he should let the man cool down and talk to him tomorrow. Dean didn’t know so he ended up doing nothing.

All he knew was that he had basically mind-raped a dude (a nice, respectable man) and that he was most likely leaving Pontiac tomorrow if Sam just found that fucking ghost.

Hit it and quit it, right? Only Dean wasn’t so certain of that, not in this case.

  
  


*****

  
  


"Just torch it, for fuck’s sake!"

Dean swiped wildly at the ghost as it dove in for another attack, hitting it like a pro-baseball player and it shrieked out of existence for a moment, giving them a short respite.

"It’s _your_ lighter." Sam snapped back as if this taking too long was somehow Dean’s fault.

Dean sighed obnoxiously as he looked around them, trying to spot the angry ghost while Sam was furiously clicking the lighter.

So it had turned out it hadn’t been a ghost from yonder times that had been disturbed by the discovery of that room down in the basement. It had been the angry ghost of a construction worker that had died during the construction of the new church. His spirit was trapped in the basement where he had died and he had apparently been pretty okay with that until the priests started trampling all over the exact spot where the cement was a little darker courtesy of his blood.

Yeah, he had simply gone on a rampant journey, killing the church’s most precious things, namely its parishioners. Not the most logical of killings but hey, Dean didn’t need logical. He needed this ghost dead (deader) and then he needed to get out of this fucking town.

No, he hadn’t been to see Castiel all day and that had more to do with his lack of courage and less with their search for this ghost and its body than Dean wanted to admit. At this point he just wanted out.

"Incoming!" he roared when he saw the ghost manifest itself again. It looked pissed off as fuck and Dean really wished Sam would hurry up. Either they were getting punched to death or someone was bound to walk into the cemetery and find them. Granted, it was night and the cemetery was on the other side of the church from the street but still.

"Got it!" Sam answered in a holler and Dean watched as the lighter was tossed into the grave the second before the ghost swooped in and promptly threw Dean half-way across the cemetery.

He landed with an _oof_ , all the air punched out of his lungs as he landed on his back in the crisp grass. All the way over at Sam the ghost shrieked as it went up in flames and Dean breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"We good?" he yelled when he had gathered enough breath for it.

"Yeah." Sam answered and Dean thumped his head down against the grass, groaning as his back protested but still feeling pretty good about this. He opened his eyes when he heard a sound above him and tilted his head back to scan the bushes behind him.

Only to lock eyes with a pair of infinitely blue eyes.

"Cas?" he huffed out and rolled around to get to his feet.

"Father Dean?" Castiel asked in a timid voice and he remained sitting behind the bushes as Dean approached him.

"What are you doing here? It’s dangerous." Dean stated heatedly and pushed the bushes aside to invade Castiel’s little sanctuary. The man fell back on his rump and just sat there, staring wide-eyed at Dean. Shit, this had to be the first time Castiel saw Dean in anything other than his priest outfit and he really wanted to explain.

"I wanted to see you." Castiel mumbled, his eyes still wide but he lowered them demurely. Fuck, Dean had to blame the sudden stab of arousal on adrenaline or he would go insane. "I heard yelling and I…" he looked up and suddenly he was back to looking frightened and oh no, that was not a look for this man, Dean thought. "I heard you and the janitor, is everything alright? I thought I saw fire. And what… Did you just fly?"

Dean carded a hand through his sweat and dirt-covered hair and sighed. "What you saw was a ghost, it threw me just before Sam torched its corpse. It’s okay now."

"Ghost?" Castiel asked dumbly and blinked up at Dean. "What are you talking about, Father?"

"Look," Dean took a step forward, intent on extending a hand to help Castiel to his feet but when he approached Castiel just kind of slumped down to rest back on his elbows, legs half-spread submissively. Was he fucking doing it on purpose? Dean thought not but didn’t know which alternative would be hotter. "You don’t have to call me Father, I’m not really a priest. And Sam’s not really a janitor. We’re… We’re kind of like Ghostbusters, okay?"

Yeah, not okay. Castiel was clearly not getting the reference, Dean could tell by the man’s furrowed brow that shouldn’t be sexy but totally was.

"I don’t understand."

Dean sighed again, hating everything about this except for the part where Cas was laid out beneath him. That was pretty awesome.

"I know, Cas." He said soothingly. "But the important thing is you don’t tell people about this, alright? Me ‘n Sam are gonna be gone in the morning and no one’s the wiser, right?"

"G-gone?" Castiel stammered out and Dean couldn’t resist and stepped closer, one foot on either side of the man’s right calf now. Castiel responded unconsciously by lying down completely. Wonderful. "You’re just going to leave the parish? And m—" he swallowed that last word but Dean didn’t need to hear it to actually _hear_ it.

He would be a fool if he claimed he didn’t think his own eyes were black from lust as he stared down at the trembling man beneath him.

"I’m sorry Cas." He murmured in a low purr. "I never meant to take it so far but you’re just too precious, I couldn’t help myself." He took yet another step when Castiel did nothing but swallow visibly. Dean felt entranced by the bob of the man’s Adam’s apple. "You have to know I’ve meant every word I’ve told you." He said softly and raked his eyes over the other man’s body where he was all stretched out for Dean like a goddamn smorgasbord. "I shouldn’t leave you like this, though." He mumbled, licking his lips.

"Please don’t go, Fath—Dean." Castiel pleaded suddenly and shit, how could Dean not react to that? "I n-need…"

Dean gently shushed the stuttering man. "I know what you need, Cas." He mumbled and finally stepped all the way up to Castiel’s crotch. He put the tip of his boot there, just very gently prodding at Castiel’s most private parts and _fuck_ , the man spread his legs so wonderfully. "That’s right." Dean hissed out as he watched Castiel’s dick twitch. "This part knows as well, doesn’t it?"

"D-Dean." Castiel sounded confused as fuck but he wasn’t asking Dean to stop and his body sure as hell looked like it enjoyed the attention. His hips rose to meet the almost too gentle push of Dean’s foot without any cajoling needed.

"You look so good like this, Cas." Dean murmured and Castiel shuddered under the praise. "You shouldn’t hide this side of you, at least not from me."

"Dean, I can’t stop thinking…" he broke off with a moan when Dean pressed a little more intently and for a moment Dean thought he had overdone it but Castiel gripped his boot when he eased off, keeping him in place.

"Thinking about what, baby?" Dean rasped out and watched with lust-filled eyes how Castiel’s back arched and he grinded Dean’s foot down on his own dick. "Thinking about me standing over you like this? I’ve been thinking about that too." Yeah, Dean was hard enough to hammer nails by now but this wasn’t for him. No, his dick could just fuck off until he had taken care of Castiel.

"D-don’t make fun of me."

Dean shook his head fondly. If ever there was a time Dean should laugh at the man it would be now, with Castiel helplessly trapped under Dean’s boot and loving it, but he was the furthest from laughing he’d ever been.

"I’m so not, Cas." He pressed out in a voice made tight by arousal and Castiel’s eyes flew open to lock onto Dean’s. "Wish we were somewhere private. Would just rip out my dick and jerk off all over you, mark you up with my spunk." He gripped his dick hard when he felt it jumping almost uncomfortably. "So fucking hard for you, baby."

"Y-you…" Castiel’s whole body trembled along with his voice as his eyes trained on the bulge between Dean’s legs.

"Yeah, Cas. Me too." He put his hands on his hips, pulling the fabric of his jeans taut over his groin to make the outline of his hard dick clearer. Castiel’s eyes widened to an almost comical size and his hands shook as he used both of them to press Dean’s foot down harder. "See what you do to me?"

"I—" Castiel’s whole face contorted in a mask of pleasure/pain as his orgasm ripped free. He flung his head back, exposing his taut neck, as his back arched and his dick emptied inside his pants beneath Dean’s foot.

"Fuck." Dean whispered and could only watch, completely enthralled as Castiel went from gorgeous to fucking celestial. Yeah, Dean was screwed and he knew it. Didn’t stop him from tearing himself free of Castiel’s slack grip and get on all fours above the man to lean down and snag one hand in Castiel’s ruffled hair even as he claimed the man’s panting mouth.

Castiel made a startled sound that turned into a moan the moment he was coherent enough to understand what was happening.

"I gotta go, Cas." Dean mumbled between kisses. "I have to, but I’m coming back for you, don’t you worry." Castiel was making confused noises and Dean couldn’t blame him; he was rather confusing himself with this uncharacteristic display of feelings. Castiel still wasn’t pushing him away, however, but rather pulling him closer with every kiss. "I don’t know when but I’m gonna come calling on you and then I’ll take care of you real good, angel. Just like you deserve."

He broke off with that because it was getting to the point where he fucking needed to stretch out on top of the man and grind down on him and if he started doing that he might as well fuck him out here in the cemetery and he didn’t want that, not really.

"Dean." Castiel pressed out when Dean pulled away and he sounded breathless but also scared, somehow, and Dean didn’t want that.

"Hey now." He mumbled softly and gripped Castiel’s hand where he had grabbed Dean’s leather jacket. "I’m not leaving you, we’ll meet again."

He was promising too much, he knew but fuck, he needed to comfort this man. Castiel opened his mouth to answer but suddenly the silence of their sanctuary was broken by Sam yelling for Dean. Castiel startled and looked very much like a deer caught in headlights. It would have been adorable if it wasn’t so heartbreaking to see the man’s fear.

"Don’t worry." Dean said firmly and promptly left Castiel with that, lying alone in the grass, and it shouldn’t feel as bad as it did because they had just had some fun. Except they hadn’t _just_ had some fun and Dean was feeling like an enormous jerk right now. Felt bad enough for his erection to actually diminish by the time he reached Sam. Fuck.

"Where the hell did you go?" Sam groused as Dean joined him by the by now already half-filled grave. Shit, Dean must have been away for quite some time.

"Took a dump in the bushes." He replied gruffly and gripped the spare spade just as Sam made a face at him.

"Really?"

"What can I say? The ghost scared the shit out of me."

Sam snorted but they kept filling the grave in silence and Dean was grateful for that at least. He tried not to think about Castiel picking himself up from the ground and walking home, his underwear full of tacky come and head probably spinning from all the lies Dean had woven.

Like how Dean had impersonated a man of the cloth. Like how he had taken Castiel’s trust. Like how Dean didn’t want to run after the man right the fuck now. So many lies.

It was much later, when Pontiac was just a speck in the rear window mirror, that Dean finally dragged himself out of his self-induced trance. And then it was only because Sam was flashing him a fifty.

"What’s this?" Dean mumbled but accepted the money readily.

"Congrats on the ghost." Sam said cheerily, obviously completely unaware of his big brother’s brooding.

Oh, right. The bet.

"I believe there was a pie involved in this." Dean stated and managed to flash his usual grin even though he felt strangely dull inside.

Sam laughed and the sound helped ease Dean’s mind. "Next pit stop, okay?"

"Don’t cheap out on me now." Dean mumbled, his grin still intact but it felt just as stale as the rest of him. Thankfully, Sam didn’t seem to notice.

  
  



End file.
